


Living beyond your years

by JackOfOwlTrades



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, No Beta we die with Honour, Soulmate AU; where you stop ageing after you turn 18 until you meet your soulmate.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:14:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25465336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackOfOwlTrades/pseuds/JackOfOwlTrades
Summary: When they were in high school, their parents would comment on how they look similar, their nose, face, everything.But now they're only focused on Osamu, and his studies. There's no indication that anyone was going to point out the fact that Osamu now has a stronger jawline. No longer a round button nose but instead it's now protruding out.There's so many differences that he could point out that by the time he's finished with the list he would have to restart again because something would have changed.-Soulmate AU
Relationships: Komori Motoya & Sakusa Kiyoomi, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi, Sakusa Kiyoomi/Ushijima Wakatoshi (One-sided)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 328





	Living beyond your years

**Author's Note:**

> Yes I know the implications of this AU (paedophilia), but I've strayed away from them. If you're uncomfortable with the idea, I apologise in advance.
> 
> Title is taken from Icarus by Bastille

Miya stretches on the floor, legs spread out as he reaches for his heels. He knows that he's making the floor reek with his sweat, even after wiping himself with a towel before cool down. The air con above him is whirring, but he still feels the sweat pooling around him. He feels bad, the cleaners are going to wipe them. All he can do now is roll around in his sweat, twisting his back and feel the burn in his thighs; the dull pain isn't anything new. At this point, it might as well be comforting.

Coach dismisses them after he deems them stretched out enough to not warrant any pains. Miya hits the showers, scrubs his body and hair clean from the sweat. He exits, drying himself as he walks to the locker room to change into something more comfortable. Sweatpants, t-shirt and sandals in his bag are replaced by the scratchy training clothes, as he sinks into the soft fabric. 

"Yo Miya." Hayashi Fujita, outside hitter, his senior and roommate, greets him outside the locker room. 

"What's up?"

"'M not going to be home."

"Oh neat, when are you coming back?"

"Later. My girlfriend is taking me out." He winks. Ah of course. His illustrious girlfriend. And her top-notch security apartment. Secure enough for him to go over during weekends. 

"Have fun!" Atsumu puts on a smile. He's going to have the whole apartment to himself. Nice.

It's been a long day of practice, and he can't wait to go back to the dorms. It's Friday afternoon, meaning they've nothing but light cardio training for the weekends. Maybe he could have some fun, pop to the bars around downtown, grab a few drinks. Wake up with a big fat headache, binge some romance series for the rest of the weekend. 

He slings his bag across his shoulders and exits the training centre, phone in hand as he's scrolling through social media. He looks at LINE, checking any messages that he's been sent during training. Just the usual; some messages from the Inarizaki boys volleyball team asking about the days each of them had, a group of high-school setters from his "monster generation" discussing and trading tips. 

From: [ctrl+V] 

Mum's been bugging me to tell you to come back for dinner this weekend.

She knows you have jackshit to do.

You better come.

From: [me] :p

From: [ctrl+V] 

I'm not going to pick you up this time.

===

**This is the Tokaido-Sanyo Shinkansen Nozomi 19 Nozomi Hakata. We will be departing in 3 minutes.**

Miya takes the shinkansen to Shin-Kobe. Window seat, booked this morning with the return journey for Sunday. He settles down, places his duffle bag on the floor and waits. Looking out the window as the scenery goes by. 

Every year, during his 4 month break after a season, he would be required to visit back home at least once. 

Osamu on the other hand, would go back more often. He has his studies in university, sure, but at least he could take the time to visit them periodically. 

He stretches his legs as he gets off the train, and makes his way back home. He could take the taxi, but he's been sitting down for far too long. Instead, he opts to take the local subway back home. 

His mother greets him outside and ushers him in. 

"Atsumu you're back! Come and give your mother a hug."

"Hey ma." He takes his shoes off. He looks at the floor, counts the shoes; 4 pairs including his. 

"Where's Osamu?"

She points her thumb behind her. "Kitchen preparing dinner. Using that degree of his to good use."

His father is on the sofa watching television. Baseball. For someone who has kids who play or have played volleyball, he is awfully invested in this sport. But they don't mind; in fact, Atsumu and Osamu would join him anytime it was on. Any time they could spare, all three would pile on the sofa to watch the games together.

It's been a long time since they've done this, ever since Atsumu moved out. He's sure that Osamu kept up the tradition with their father, but he had also moved out a few months back. Atsumu would have helped him out, but he'd been too busy training and getting ready for the season. Instead, Suna had stepped up. After all, both of them now share an apartment, so it made sense. 

(He hasn't seen Osamu for a year. Both have been busy with their things. Just a few images of their daily life in each other's albums, but nothing else.)

He could hear Osamu in the kitchen, preparing dinner with their mother. He would help, but he could hear the plates clattering in the kitchen; sounds like dinner is almost done. The cutlery is being brought out, and he sets up the table. 

He sits down at the table, in the same arrangement as the family had, ever since Osamu and him have been kids; his mother and father at the sides while the twins are to face each other. A family precaution to make sure a fight wouldn't escalate.

He lifts his head just as Osamu is about to sit down. That's when he notices the difference. 

The subtle height increase, the jawline, nose protruding out. He realises that Osamu isn't aware of his changes. Nor are his parents. Probably because they see each other more often. The difference between them wasn't too noticeable. But they were twins and saw each other's faces in the mirror every morning. 

When they were in high school, their parents would comment on how they look similar, their nose, face, everything. 

But now they're only focused on Osamu and his studies. There's no indication that anyone was going to point out the fact that Osamu now has a stronger jawline. No longer a round button nose but instead it's now protruding out.

There's so many differences that he could point out that by the time he's finished with the list he would have to restart again because something would have changed. 

Atsumu tunes out of the conversation at the dinner table, only scoffing his food into the mouth as fast as he could. He feels a hollow pit in his stomach, even after finishing his meal. 

He stands up, chair scratching the floor. Everyone at the table looks up. 

"I'm going to the bathroom. Excuse me." 

He ignores the questioning looks he gets from his family as he retreats away. He closes the door and locks it. 

He rushes to the mirror. Pulling at his cheeks and poking his forehead. While Osamu has higher cheekbones, he does not. Osamu has a square jaw, he does not. Osamu has a pointier nose, he does not. 

He takes a deep breath but it's stuck in his throat. Tries to breathe in again. He's pushing back his tears. He can do this. He can be understanding. 

It's unfair. 

Deep breathes. In. Out. 

His head is searing from pain and it hurts. It hurts to think of scenarios on the reasons why he didn't tell him. How he can make it out of this. Brain pulsing and knackering into his skull, even though he's not moving. 

Atsumu sinks down to the floor, knees to his face. He doesn't want his family to hear his screams. He should be happy, understanding. Ageing was a natural process; finding your soulmate should be celebrated. Yet he was the only one who noticed the happiness, the onlooker, without experiencing it himself. 

"YEAH EVEN FATE FUCKING BOWS DOWN TO HIM HUH?" He doesn't care what he's saying. Atsumu screams into his knee letting it all out. It's constricting, he can't breathe. His chest is burning. Gasping for air but all he gets is a mouthful of fabric from his trousers. His teeth are biting down on his kneecaps. He's not able to hold back his tears as they trickle down his face and become wet splotches. 

"He's my twin. I-" he stops, realisation dawning upon him. 

He's already separated from Osamu in their career paths. Only recently has he started to accept that Osamu wasn't going to be with him on the court forever, covering his back. Osamu had his own dreams of starting his own business, something Atsumu has and will support. And Osamu does the same. 

Now fate shows up and picks a side. Severing their relationship even further. They should have been treated the same. Finding their soulmates together. Staying together forever. Looking like each other. 

He can't handle the idea that they're going to look different. It's not noticeable now, but sooner or later distinction between them is going to be clear-cut No longer are people going to refer to them as "Miya Twins", but as "Miya Siblings". 

(His mind wanders to the idea that he'll outlive Osamu. Watch him grow old while Atsumu remains unchanged, forever young.)

"Osamu please don't leave. Please." He repeats it like a mantra, stumbling through as he hiccuping a few times. 

He stumbles through Sunday morning, packing his bag and leaves home to go back to Tokyo. His parents see him off at the station, waving him off. Osamu's with them. He's leaving later; after all, it doesn't take him hours to get back to his apartment. 

They wave him off and hug him, but anytime they try to bring up last night's dinner he would brush them off. 

Monday morning and he goes to the training hall and does his warmups. Atsumu starts to throw himself into volleyball. He's still the usual self; sarcastic, excessive on the court, snarky. But his hunger for volleyball isn't easily satisfied. Earliest to practice and latest to leave. 

It takes a toll on his body. It's become apparent on his face. More gaunt, eye bags a permanent fixture on his face. Lacklustre smile. 

Anytime Osamu reaches out, whether it be a call or a message, his hand hovers for a minute, debating on whether he should accept. And every time Atsumu pulls his hand back and retracts back to his comfort of volleyball.

His body is perfect now. If he's offering himself to volleyball forever, soul and all, he wants them to accept his offerings indefinitely. 

===

Sakusa had been brought up on the fantasy of soulmates.

When he was younger, he would always imagine what it would be like, to follow fate and their confidence in choosing his partner. How he would put his whole trust on some entity above him, something uncontrollable. 

There is an early memory, of him and Komori during a summer evening at their grandpa's, watching the night trickle in and stars starting to flicker on like those filament bulbs their grandpa has. And every time, the north star, the brightest one, overpowering everything around them. 

Both Komori and him, not knowing any constellations, could always point them out every night. The north star, a constant fixture in the night sky, even as everything had changed when they couldn't go back to their grandfather after Sakusa's 12th summer. 

When he first met Ushijima, he was sure that this was the sign fate was giving him. The tugging in his chest telling him that he should follow him. His own north star, the brightest that hung within his fictitious night sky. 

Sakusa started tailing Ushijima's career in volleyball, reading anything he could get his hands on. Anything. 

(Komori called him obsessed. Sakusa threw a pillow at him in relation) 

During his time in university, he would make time in his busy schedule to visit Ushijima. To test whether he was his soulmate. 2 years have gone by and there was nothing different. 

Well, for himself. He saw that Ushijima had changed. Aged. Sakusa would frantically look in the mirror every day, poking and prodding his face as if he could force his cells to work. But they have remained frozen in time. 

He realised that no matter what, he would never be able to reach him. That Ushijima had someone else in the sky with him, within his system he had found someone else that would circle around him. 

The north star is a constant fixture in the sky. But it was never a goal, never to be reached, but only a guide during Sakusa's own darkest times. 

Something that would appear to him. A constant fixture in his fictitious sky. But it wasn't reciprocal. 

How could fate determine whether his feelings towards Ushijima wasn't worthy for him to become his soulmate. 

He dug himself into studies, volleyball, anything to forget the fact that fate had misguided him, and dismissed his dependence on fate. 

===

After graduating from university, his classmates had decided to throw a party in celebration of not to pull any more all-nighters. No more shitty professors who can't teach, nor any 4 am rants about binomial distributions. And what better way to celebrate the end of those trying times than to get drunk and kill their remaining small population of brain cells.

Komori calls to congratulate him, and asks to meet up, in which Sakusa agrees immediately. Any excuse to get him out of this party was good in his books. 

They go back to Sakusa's house, mother not home yet. Won't be for a while, but they prefer to stay in his bedroom. Both lying on the floor, looking up. 

Room dark, curtains were drawn closed. The only sign of light came from his alarm clock, which displayed 9:22 pm. A bit too early for late-night introspection, questioning their place in their universe and shit. So light topics it is. 

Komori starts. "Any future plans for Mr. 'I have a Degree?'"

"Volleyball"

"Still the ball head after high-school huh? What team are you going to join."

"Dunno"

"What about EJP? Join us!"

Sakusa faces him, mouth squeezed into a tight line. "Motoya, you little shit. No way."

"Wow I see how you treat your favourite cousin"

"I'm your only cousin."

"Exactly."

"Oh no! How could he treat me like this, my trustworthy confidant. Kin from the same blood. Devastating betrayal! Oh-"

"Oi stop being so dramatic."

He chuckled. "Yes, yes I got it through my thick skull that you're not going to join us. Then what team have you decided on?"

Well, he got scouted by a few, but a D1 team had caught his eye with an offer. MSBY Black Jackals. 

It was everything ticked off his list. Good pay, housing provided, the notoriety of their team. 

(Komori Motoya wasn't there.)

The recruiter had assured him that he would be working towards the starting roster within a few months. His placement as MVP at the recent Japan National Collegiate Volleyball Championship had helped him boost his name among other teams. 

And being on the starting roster of such a high-calibre team was sure to test his strength on court. 

And test his strength it did. But not on court. His first day moving in, he found out Miya would be his roommate. 

(Hayashi Fujita, the previous roommate of one Miya Atsumu, had left after finally building up the courage to live with his girlfriend turned fiancé. Good for him.)

Sakusa's aware of Miya, ever since their first meeting during his first year. Finals in the Interhigh Tournament, opposite sides of the net. Sakusa looked down on him after a feint. Scores the winning point. Receives a promise that he would be beaten next time. 

Youth national training camp back in second year, having been the first time they were on the same side of the net. Cautious of the tosses Miya would set to him. Receiving a promise that one day he won't hesitate with the tosses that he sends over. 

Quarter finals during their third year, both captains of their respective teams. Miya looked worn, off his game, didn't have the same connection with his twin as he had last year, but still had a killer serve that he was known for. 

And finally, the matches between Miya and Ushijima he had witnessed during his first year in university. He had watched it in his dorms, headphones in to immerse himself into the match. At that moment in time, Miya wasn't his focus point. His north star. But he could begrudgingly admit that Miya was a worthy setter. 

And recently, after graduating, when researching the MSBY plays. He has seen Miya Atsumu becoming a monster on the court. His obsession with volleyball was reflected in his plays. Gnawing and scratching for more. 

These brief encounters have shaped together to mould his image of Miya Atsumu. But living with him is another story altogether

The mess that was lying around the apartment, the people he would bring. He had no qualms against these issues, as long as they kept to Miya's room. 

But no. Dishes were thrown into the sink, laundry littering the apartment. Absolute chaos. 

(Hayashi Fujita probably had to bear the brunt of housework, if not all. Poor soul.)

But the volume issue when it came to the people he brought home. The walls were pretty thick, sure, but he could still hear the sounds coming from his room. And it was driving him up the wall. 

Sakusa confronts him, during the second week of him being roommates. It's Saturday morning, and he's making breakfast. He starts with washing the rice and then putting it in the rice cooker. 

Miya's door opens, and out comes a girl. Sakusa glances at her as she struts out, unfazed, and leaves the apartment with a bang. 

He turns back to cooking. Heats up the pan, cracks his eggs into a bowl and beats them with chopsticks. He likes it scrambled. Eggs plated, rice scooped out and sits down on the dining table. 

Sakusa's halfway finished with breakfast when Miya finally emerges from his room. (His piss yellow hair is tousled. Well, honey blonde hair, as Miya likes to put it.)

"Miya."

Miya lazily walks over. "Mornin'. Looking lively."

"Stop bringing people over. They're too loud. Gag them if you have to."

"Oh you didn't know Omi-omi?" Miya slinks himself onto the chair, leaning over the table as if he was a predator, "It's me."

Sakusa slams his chopsticks down on the table. "Then stop your incessant sounds."

"Only for you Omi-Omi." He draws back and has his hands cupping his chin and elbows on the counter. 

Both don't leave their seat till Sakusa finishes. He washes up, and Miya trails him to the kitchen. 

"So what gives you the courtesy of having a good night sleep, and not me?"

"Aw Omi-kun if you wanted to join us you could have said so." Sakusa sprays him with water, and Miya hisses, retreating to the living room. 

But after that conversation, Sakusa's glad to find out that Miya's stopped bringing people over. And he's helping with housework as well. Well, albeit him stuffing his mess into his own room, but it was better than leaving it out in the open. 

The downside to this is that Miya's now focused his attention on Sakusa. 

The nicknames he could deal with; after all, Komori is his cousin and growing up with him meant that he would have to deal with teasing. Sakusa has mastered the art of not reacting to any roasts that come his way. 

Miya starts paying closer attention to Sakusa. Granted, he does this to all his teammates, making sure that they were all in good shape and performing well. He would subtly nod at them as if his approval was what would get the team going. 

But Sakusa especially got more notice. Perhaps it was because he was new to the team, and Miya just wants to gauge out his level and see how well they would work together. 

He had counted that for practice matches and training, Miya sets to him more than any other hitter. That after a good spike he would say "nice kill Omi!" to him more than any other hitter. Pair work where Miya would immediately side with him despite his prickly exterior. 

(He’s told Komori about this, presenting charts, diagrams, everything. Komori just laughs at him, asking if this was how he planned to use his degree. Sakusa just smacks his head with a pillow) 

===

There are interviews after matches, where reporters and cameramen alike would crowd around players, trying to get a slice of their thoughts to publish on their network. An exclusive, something juicy, that would garner viewers into their website. 

Each player had a different persona towards the public. Sakusa knew that as someone who had recently joined the D1 league and doesn't handle media well, he would most likely be the candidate to prey upon. 

Sakusa was thankful that his teammates would handle the brunt of group interviews. However, they had split off afterwards when they are expected to give a personal opinion. 

He's surrounded by a bunch of press from all sides, cutting any chance of him escaping. Overwhelming amount of cameras and mics are shoved in his face. 

After his first match and win with MSBY, he's too tired to face them. He just wants to leave. Unfortunately, the PR for MSBY had stated that it was necessary for him, as these interviews help him gain traction in the volleyball community and solidify his position as someone to fear on court. Not like his personality was enough. 

He almost disregards their instruction, looking for a way out, but Miya just walks up next to him. Which just attracts even more people. The press from both of the individual interviews had combined into a cloud, surrounding them in all directions. 

Great. 

"Miya-kun, how does it feel to be teammates with Sakusa?"

"Sakusa-kun, we're from Sports Graphic Number.How're you finding MSBY Black Jackals?

"Miya, Miya. What do you think of your new teammate climbing up to first-string so fast?"

"You guys played against each other in high-school, how does it feel to be on the same side of the net?"

Miya just smiles in their general direction, a mask plastered on his face. 

"Omi-Omi is a wonderful addition to the team, and I'm thankful as a setter for him to be in my arsenal." They both bow, Miya's hand on Sakusa's back. And immediately Miya leads him to the corridors, ignoring the press, and into the locker rooms. 

"First time for everything right Omi-kun?"

"Yeah, right. Thanks."

Miya was about to retort, _Oh wow receiving thanks from Omi-kun? How rare,_ but he notices Sakusa fidgeting. Ill at ease. So he just smiles. "You're welcome."

And how this continues for any impromptu interviews before and after matches. He would get a few minutes to defend himself until Miya slides in. They share the spotlight, Miya taking most of the attention, while Sakusa jumps in from time to time with a quip. It's at a pace that he's comfortable with, with Miya helping him feel at ease when crowded with the press. 

The PR team have noticed this, and have made sure that any interview conducted outside matches, the two would be together. They've killed two birds with one stone; the dynamic between the two balances each other out during interviews, and fans would rave for interactions between them.

===

Additional practice wasn't encouraged, but it wasn't barred either. Coach Foster would send a little side-eye, as he didn't want his players to not run themselves down with exhaustion. Only a few had been brave enough to ignore him and stay afterwards. 

Sakusa, along with Miya and Bokuto are often the ones to stay. And most of the time it's only the three of them. They would each grab a cart full of volleyballs, and just practise. There are always two people on one side of the court, serving or spiking over the net to the other side, where the ball would then be received towards a cart. 

When all carts are empty, they would go around the hall, picking them up and either throwing it in or just placing it. 

After each additional practice, they would tidy the place up, and split up. Bokuto, rushing back to stay with his boyfriend Akaashi, while the two of them would stay for a bit longer. 

Sakusa would go to the open showers in the locker rooms first. It was a silent agreement that had been established at the start, as Sakusa doesn't like to be completely exposed to people.

After he gets out, a towel wrapped around his waist securely, he would look at Atsumu. He’d get no reaction from him. Well, none that he can read as his head is always dipped low so that only his bag of fresh clothes would be privy enough to witness the expression on his face. 

(He had once imagined catching Miya’s expression, pointer finger curled underneath and thumb pressed into his chin as he tilted Miya’s face up to meet his own, to finally see what lovely features he had painted on his face and hidden from him. Komori says that’s gay. Sakusa spikes a pillow towards his direction, but Komori just deflects it. He's gonna have to find a new way to annoy him now.) 

Which brings him to the idea that Miya was _embarrassed._ But why would he? He never reacted like this when anyone on the team showed skin. Heck, when Bokuto lifts his shirt to wipe off sweat, he would show off his whole defined torso. Miya doesn't even bat an eyelash. 

But when Sakusa exposed himself, whether it be tugging at the bottom of his shirt to fan himself, or pulling the collar of his shirt away from him to allow more air to flow through, he was only exposing his collarbone or the divot between his neck and shoulder. And Miya would always look away, to the floor, the ceiling, anywhere but at Sakusa. 

(He once complained to Komori that he felt like a 17th-century woman, where a sliver of skin would lead to their suitors swoon. Komori reminds him that he wears ankle socks for practice. This comment earned him a vibe check with a pillow.)

===

The monster statue where Miya Atsumu had once stood has now morphed into something else. The longer Sakusa has spent time with him, the statue would melt to his touch. Warm. Pliable. 

So he waited for Miya to transform, to stop hiding away from the shell and husk that was Miya Atsumu, setter extraordinaire, to Miya Atsumu, the guy who promised him that he'll set a ball that he won't second guess, the one who had told him that he would be a delight to have him in his arsenal of hitters. 

_~~Miya Atsumu, the guy who looks out for him~~ _

Sakusa spends so much time focusing on Miya that he almost doesn't recognise himself. One day, he checks himself in the mirror and pays attention to his face. The smooth surfaces that he has been used in university to now turn into divots and curves on his face. His face had chiselled. 

(He calls Komori, rambling to him that Miya could be his soulmate. Komori tells him to pull up pictures of when they were 18 to compare whether there are any changes. Sakusa doesn't have any on Miya, in which Komori proceeds to send one he searched up, where Miya's modelling for some brand. Sakusa cuts the call short, which feels way more satisfying than throwing a pillow)

The most likely is Miya, and he sees the changes as well. He's been noticing him around more, within his sight. Yeah, they live together, eat together, train. He's starting to have colour in his cheeks and it's no longer gaunt, but he also seems older. Resembling more and more like his twin every day. 

Miya's too perceptive as a setter to not notice. But there's no indication that he's aware

If Sakusa was a lesser man, he wouldn’t confront Atsumu at all. Let it play out, have him find out that his beloved outside hitter “Omi-Omi” was also his soulmate. For him to come out his shell, and to reach out to him at the halfway point. 

Yet he realised that it wasn’t a shell that Miya had hidden away, instead of a mask that was glued onto his face. The mask that he had plastered on his face for so long that his face wouldn’t change. And any alternative emotion that Miya wished to portray would instead bring pain, his own mask restricting his emotion. 

It’s been rotting, badly maintained. So Sakusa gets to work restoring it. 

He starts chipping the dirt and scratches the back of the surface that was the mask of Miya Atsumu. He would make sure that he wouldn’t pierce through either side, holding his tools against him delicately. Weapons poised, comfort and support came through by staying late after practices with him, cooking his meals. 

Once he had separated the mask between his face, he silently offered himself as the piece of fabric between, separating Atsumu from his mask. Now restored, ageing won't hurt him anymore. 

Sakusa now decides to wait for Miya to choose whether he would remove his mask and reveal himself freely, or keep it on his face forever. If he wants to meet at the halfway point and become mortal with him. 

===

Come one day when they just lost against a team in the semi-finals, and they're in the hotel. Tired emotionally. They don't cry. They've won and lost so many matches that they should be indifferent. This isn't high school, where they only have a few times to play with their teammates before they move on. But it still hurts, the amount of effort they had placed in. That only a few mistakes made by each of them was enough to pile together into a barrier away from finals.

Sakusa shares a hotel room with Miya, as he always does. They're roommates in the apartment complex, so there's no surprise in this arrangement. 

Sakusa can't sleep, even though he tries to. He replays the match inside his head. The toss was perfect. Hand hitting it perfectly as he put a spin to it. A blocker stuffing him. It's replaying in his mind like a broken tape, never stopping, rewinding at different points. 

He twists and turns. The curtains aren't fully drawn, so the nightlife underneath in the streets and the light pierce through into their room. 

He looks at Atsumu, face bare and eyes closed. Slack face, endearingly with his mouth open, two steps away from drooling. Cute. 

Atsumu shuffles to face him. Sakusa immediately pretends to sleep, hoping that he won't notice how he was openly staring at him. 

"Omi, are you awake?"

After a long pause, Sakusa speaks up. "Yes Miya, unfortunately, I am."

"Rude."

"Well what do you want? You woke me up." As if he wasn't already. 

"Dunno."

"What?"

"It's just. Empty. Ya know."

"I just got a text. From Osamu. We've started talking to each other again. Gotten back into each other's lives, kinda like high school" He chuckles "'samu and 'tsumu, both out there to defeat the world!"

There was silence, only the sounds from the night life below between them. 

"He sent a picture of him and his boyfriend. Suna Rintarou," Ah. The EJP blocker. "Fate led him to happiness first. Get's to grow old with him."

_~~and not me~~ _

Sakusa gets up and walks over to Atsumu's bed to sit at the edge. He doesn't know what he's doing; he should lay in bed, get some sleep and rest after the match. Instead, he's compelled by his body leads him there, his heart urging to be by his side. 

Atsumu's mask placed on the side table, exposing his delicate features as the light frames his face.

Kiyoomi reaches for Atsumu but stops himself. His hands are hovering over Atsumu's cheek, the warmth penetrating his space. Atsumu believes he's dreaming, as he's staring into the pools of his eyes. 

He tilts his head and feels the calloused hand cup his cheek. Thumb pressed to his cheekbones, swiping it left and right in slow, rhythmic motions. 

"You do realise that you have changed as well."

"So have you."

Foreheads touch. Atsumu smiles. 

"Keep me company?"

"Only for tonight." 

_"What took you so long?"_

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is the first fic that I've finished! Yay! ＼(≧▽≦)／  
> I've started using twitter, so if you'd like to yell at me I'll be @bigrandmashaz  
> THANK YOU COCO FOR PUTTING UP WITH ME AT 2 AM AND LISTENING TO ME RANT ABOUT THIS.


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